


the future is so bright, it blinded me

by TolkienGirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abstract, Character Study, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), a tribute to my DARLING BOY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”  - Plato





	the future is so bright, it blinded me

_at ease, soldier_ ,

is what a man told you once—but never once have you rested.

Your spine is stiff at night. Your shoulders are strong with guidelines of muscle and memory.

 _at ease, soldier, (the_ _war is almost over)_

You are going to die and it’s how you want to live.  

 

Captain America is a long time ago and Steve Rogers is a long time ago and the scars on your knuckles are a long time ago and Bucky falling is—

—something that happened to you twice.

 

You think you’re in love with the way the wind blows. You think you’re a good man without a lot of heart. And heart is all that matters, if you’re going to beat anything.

 

_at ease, soldier, you’re going to die_

It’s strange to be a century in the making when no one else even made it here. You’ve curled on your side, smaller in the night than in your traitorous bones, and you’ve whispered to whatever friend you have left,

“I don’t think I can do this forever.”

Here’s the thing about forever:

No one gets to see it.

Not even you.

 

_the war is almost over, and it’s how you want to live_

“I’d like to remember the good times,” you said to Bucky once, over a toast of something that T’Challa swore was whiskey but which didn’t taste like any whiskey you knew. “You and me against the world.”

“There _were_ good times,” Bucky said. When he smiled, you didn’t even think about the fact that he was missing an arm and his freedom, while you were missing half your life. “I can remember ‘em, now.”

 

(This is the age where you don’t make it.)

(Some people would call that an ultimatum.)

 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about death,” you say to Natasha, the first morning after you all sleep, even though you don’t want to, and you all wake with ashes and dust in your mouths.

“It’s in the air,” she says, flat-voiced and red-eyed.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about _my_ death,” you say, because you’re here, aren’t you? _Forever_ seems to have a dog-tag with your name on it. “And how to make it count.”

 

(Some people would call that an ultimatum.)

(You just call it something that happened to you twice.)

 

Here’s the thing about death.

No one gets to beat it.

Not even you.


End file.
